A Sammy Divided
by Fajitas
Summary: Sam's always wanted a normal life. And now he has it. But when people start mysteriously freezing to death, Sam finds himself wanting to help. Very small amounts of Jess thrown in for flavor. Discontinued.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Sam ran down the sidewalk towards his next class, which he was late for. A couple of people said hi to him as he passed, but he was in too much of a rush to say anything to them. He finally reached the lecture hall, stopping outside to catch his breath. He opened and closed the door as quietly as possible, then surveyed the room for a seat.

This was one of Sam's larger classes, with 200 people in it. He spotted a seat in the middle of a center row. He would have to climb over a half dozen people to get to it. He moved down the stairs. Moving to another step, a large creak echoed through the room and all eyes turned towards him. Sam sighed. It amazed him that he could sneak around a forest while chasing a skin walker and not make a sound, but in a room full of students on a college campus, he always made enough noise to be noticed.

The professor, Dr. DeSando, peered at Sam over his bifocals. "Mr. Winchester, if you cannot be troubled to come to class on time, you might at least be considerate of your classmates and come in quietly."

Sam muttered, "Sorry, sir," and proceeded to climb over a bunch of people. He folded himself into the small seat, his knees jammed against the row in front of him.

DeSando continued with his lecture about the differences between plant cells and animal cells. Sam allowed himself a small smile as he remembered when he was in sixth grade; Dean had helped him build a model of an animal cell for a science fair. Sam had won first prize. To this day Sam had no idea where the money had come from to pay for the supplies. Sam shook all thought of Dean from his mind as class ended and people began to get up from their seats.

Sam stepped out into the aisle when he heard DeSando say, "Mr. Winchester, could I see you for a moment?"

Sam quickly walked down the stairs and stood in front of the professor. His next class was fortunately in the building right next door, so he had some time to spare. The professor took off his glasses and began cleaning them with a handkerchief. "Mr. Winchester," he began "are you aware that this is the fourth time you have been late for class this semester?"

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry sir," Sam said, looking at his shoes in a contrite position.

"I realize that this class is required, and as such many students feel they do not have to put forth the same amount of effort as they would for a class in their major. And while I do not take attendance, I expect some discipline to be shown." DeSando put his glasses back on his face. "If you do not start showing up on time, it will start being reflected in your grades."

"Please, sir, you don't understand…"

"Understand what? Sleeping in until two in the afternoon?"

Sam looked at the professor with the same innocent eyes that had gotten him out of trouble so many times in his life. "Sir, I'm late to this class occasionally because I work at the cafeteria from 10-2. I can usually leave early enough to get here, but the cafeteria is on the other side of campus…" Sam trailed off.

The professor's eyes softened. He regarded Sam in a slightly kinder way as he said, "Well, your work is exceptional and you are usually on time. Just try to be quieter when you come in."

Sam smiled and said, "Thank you, sir."

He ran up the stairs of the lecture hall and out into the hall. He quickly walked to his next class, American Cultures. He soon spotted his friend Zack and sat next to him. Zack looked at him as he sat down. "Hey, Sam, how's it going?"

"DeSando decided to humiliate me in front of the class again."

"Ah, forget DeSando. Blondie must have known you were going to be in a bad mood. I've been staring at her legs for the past five minutes."

Sam looked across the aisle to see a tall girl with long blonde hair. She was wearing a short skirt which showed what Sam thought were the most beautiful legs he had ever seen. Sam didn't know Blondie's real name. Zack and a couple of Sam's other friends had started calling her that. Sam had yet to talk to her, he hadn't even come close. No way he'd ever have enough nerve.

Sam's concentration was broken when he heard a girl a few rows behind him talking. "And they found another body last night." The girl popped her gum. "It was frozen, just like the other two. It's weird, you know? The police can't figure out how it happened."

Sam forced himself to stop listening. He had tried to make himself stop eavesdropping, but eighteen years of training was hard to ignore and as class started, Sam found himself mentally listing every creature that could freeze a person to death.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Sam yawned as he took trays off the conveyer belt. He had been up until 3 in the morning, doing research for a paper he had to write in DeSando's class, and then he'd gotten up at 8 to finish it. It wasn't like Sam to procrastinate, but he had read the syllabus wrong and thought he had another week. He only knew the actual due date because DeSando had reminded the class.

Sam worked in the kitchen at the cafeteria. Today, he was stuck sorting the garbage from the dishes left on the trays. It never ceased to amaze Sam how much people would leave on their trays. He found himself throwing out people's old homework, notes scribbled in class, and flyers from various extra curriculars on campus.

The next tray that Sam saw had a university newspaper on it. The headline read, "Another Body Found, Police Puzzled." Sam quickly glanced over it before throwing it away. This made the fourth body that had been found within two weeks and at this rate, there would be half a dozen more by the end of the month.

Sam went through the motions of his job automatically, internally debating whether or not to get involved. There was no reason this had to relate to the supernatural. As soon as Sam thought that he could almost hear Dean's voice saying, "We've looked into less." Sam shook his head. That was not his life anymore. It was never a life he had wanted to begin with. He finished up his shift and ran to class.

It was Wednesday, so Sam had a writing and rhetoric class. It was much closer to the cafeteria than DeSando's, which gave Sam a little more time to get there. He arrived and walked into the room. There was no one else in sight and a note on the board proclaimed, "PWR 1 has been cancelled." Sam sighed and left the room.

He had an hour to kill before his next class and found himself heading for the library, deciding his paper could use a little more polishing. He sat down facing one of the many computers and plugged in his flash drive. He pulled up his document and began revising it. While skimming a paragraph about viruses he thought about all the times he had been sick. The first time Sam had been seriously sick was when he was five. Dean had taken him to the doctor, not knowing what was wrong. He'd been able to lie his way in and out of the clinic without anyone wondering where their father was. Of course, Dean could lie his way out of just about anything.

Sam made himself focus on his paper, but realized after five minutes that he hadn't done anything. Thinking of Dean had led to thinking about hunting. And thinking about hunting had led to thinking about whatever was attacking students. Sam closed the word document containing his paper and opened an internet browser. He still wouldn't hunt, but it couldn't hurt to find out exactly what was going on. His fingers flew across the keyboard as he slipped into research mode.

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Sam glanced at the clock and realized that he only had a few minutes before his next class started. He grabbed the laptop and left the library, without having learned very much. All the victims had been university students, but their bodies had been found off-campus. It had taken Sam a while to realize that they all belonged to the same fraternity. That made him think he was probably dealing with a spirit.

Sam arrived at his class and took a seat, but didn't hear a word of the lecture. His mind was far too preoccupied with what he had researched. He only came back to reality when the professor called on him to answer a question, which he was able to fake his way out of. After that, he forced the hunt from his mind and focused completely on Sherman's march to the sea.

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When Sam finally made his way back to his dorm it was eight o'clock. He had just managed to forget about the hunt when he heard some students in the hallway talking about the murders. He went to his room which was on the second floor. The door was closed and there was a necktie on the knob. Sam groaned. Of all the days for his roommate to bring someone home with him.

Sam wondered where he could hide out for the next couple of hours when his stomach rumbled. He left the dorm and made his way to a cheap diner off-campus. He sat down in a booth that had definitely seen better days and was approached by a very beautiful waitress. He gave his order and she left.

Sam looked at the empty seat across from him, suddenly wishing his brother was there. The diner, the hot waitress, the hunt, all formed a scene with only one thing missing: his big brother. Sam pulled out his phone and scrolled down his contact list until he reached Dean's number. His thumb hovered over the call button as he wondered whether Dean would help or not. There wouldn't really be any harm in calling his brother. Then Dean could pick up the hunt and Sam would be able to remain an ordinary college student. But if Dean came, he would probably point out that even at college the hunt seemed to find him. Sam put his phone back in his pocket.

Sam's food came and he ate, ignoring the greasy taste of the burger and the staleness of the coffee. It was something he had been eating his entire life—it didn't warrant any attention now. Sam finished, leaving about half the burger and most of the fries untouched on his plate. He hadn't realized until he had left for college how little he actually ate. His plate was always empty by the end of a meal because Dean was constantly grabbing food from it.

Sam left the diner and headed back to the dorm. The room was now empty and Sam had reached a decision about the hunt. He hadn't gone looking for it. Hadn't been searching obituaries in newspapers around the country, the hunt had just fallen into his lap. The odds of it coming to the attention of another hunter were not very good and if Sam didn't do anything people were going to continue to die. In Sam's mind, that settled it. Sam would take the hunt, but this would be his last one, he swore.

**A/N:** I know, I just couldn't write a story completely void of Dean. I should be updating more regularly, now that I'm back home. Stay tuned and please have pity and leave a review.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Sam actually managed to make it to DeSando's class on time the next day. Work at the cafeteria had been slow, so his supervisor had let him leave ten minutes early. Sam kept looking around, wondering what was taking Zack so long to arrive. He looked over his shoulder to the left when he hear a voice on his right ask, "Is anyone sitting there?"

He whipped around to see Blondie standing in the aisle, looking at the seat on the other side of Sam. Today she was simply wearing jeans and a long sleeve shirt, her hair slightly messed up and no makeup on her face. And Sam was still having a hard time thinking about anything other than her. He finally managed to say, "No."

There was no way Blondie would be able to climb over Sam's long legs, not that he would have minded her trying. He stood up, but the rows were still so narrow that there was barely any space between them as she inched past. Sam let out a sigh of relief when they were both able to sit down.

Sam glanced at the clock and realized there were still a few minutes to go before class started. He usually wished this class would start later, so he didn't have to rush, but now he wished DeSando would start class early. The awkward silence between Sam and Blondie was driving him crazy as he tried to think of something to say to her. She rummaged through her backpack and muttered, "Oh, crap!" under her breath. She looked at Sam and asked, "Do you have an extra pen I can borrow?"

Sam managed to stutter out, "Uh, yeah," handing her a black pen from his backpack.

She rewarded him with a smile and said, "Thanks."

He gave a smile back and DeSando finally started the class. Sam was both loving and hating his current position. On one hand, he was sitting by a beautiful girl he'd been attracted to since the beginning of the semester. But, by the end of class he realized he'd taken a grand total of two notes and had no recollection of anything DeSando had said.

The bell rang and Sam quickly got up, making a beeline for the exit. He saw Zack sitting in a back row with a Cheshire grin on his face. He followed Sam out into the hallway and said, "Look at you, Sam! Putting the moves on Blondie!"

"I wasn't putting the moves on anyone."

"Oh, so she was hitting on you."

Sam rolled his eyes and said, "There was no flirting! She just needed somewhere to sit."

"And she chose to crawl over you as opposed to taking one of the available aisle seats?"

Sam could feel his face turning bright red and Zack walked in the other direction, saying, "Later!" over his shoulder.

Sam felt like smacking himself. He'd had a perfect opportunity to get to know Blondie better and he had completely blown it. He would never understand how Dean had been able to teach him everything, except how to flirt. It had taken Sam months, just to make eye contact, whereas Dean could have any woman he wanted within five minutes. Although, Sam didn't think a "Wham bam, thank you, ma'am" approach would work with a girl who'd been smart enough to get into Stanford. Sam focused on the present as he realized he had a hunt to start.

* * *

Sam sat on a bench in a middle class neighborhood. He'd been sitting there for ten minutes, trying to work up the courage to knock on the door of the house at the end of the street. After class, he had gone to the library, to look up the name of the victims. The first victim had been a student, but he was local. Sam had decided to talk to the guy's mother. That was all much easier said than done. It was one thing to question people while riding shotgun to a smart-ass older brother. It was something else entirely to talk to people by himself. Sam had gone on hundreds of hunts, but he'd never before thought it might be different if he were on his own.

He finally forced himself to get up and walked to the house. Sam had thought long and hard about what kind of approach he should take. Posing as law enforcement was out of the question. He didn't have the time, nor the extra money to make a fake ID and he couldn't risk getting arrested. That didn't leave him many other options. He finally decided to pose as a student reporter. He knocked on the door and waited.

The door was finally opened by a short middle-aged woman. She looked at Sam and asked, "Yes?"

"Are you Mrs. Kocho?"

"Yes," she said, eyeing Sam suspiciously.

"My name is Sam Winchester. I'm writing an article on the recent deaths."

She began to close the door and Sam quickly said, "Please, Mrs. Kocho. I just need a few minutes of your time."

"I just lost my son and only child," she said, bitterly. "Why should I help you?"

"I'm hoping that in writing this article I'll be able to help the police figure out what happened to your son, so it won't happen to anyone else. Mrs. Kocho, four people have died already and I just want to help stop it."

It might have been Sam's earnestness, or his puppy dog eyes, but Mrs. Kocho opened the door further and motioned with her arm that he should come in.

**A/N:** I'm sorry. I really hate when people do this, but I'm not going to continue this story. I have a very busy life now, I'm writing a novel, and, frankly, I wasn't really sure where this was going anyway. At the moment I have no time or motivation to write a multi-chapter fic, but I do have a one-shot coming up. Again, sorry.


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